


First Assignment Stateside

by clgfanfic



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Cody are back home, but still in the military.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Assignment Stateside

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Prime Time #7 and later in Boss And Bodacious: Special Collection #1 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

Lieutenant Nick Ryder wiped the back of his hand across his wet forehead and silently cursed the clerk responsible for this assignment, whoever he was, to everlasting hell in the middle of the green suck of Vietnam.  After leaving that godforsaken country the young officer had hoped to avoid heat and humidity for a while – a long, long while.  Hawaii would have been nice, but Alaska would have been better!

 _But, no.  Here I am in Louisiana, in the middle of the summer, in the middle of a heat wave… Mick was right.  I can't get no satisfaction_.

He sighed, an odd sense of loneliness rumbling through him.  He was all alone again.  Colonel Doug Johnson's special operations unit had disbanded in late 1972 with the news that the war was coming to an end.  The men were all reassigned, and Ryder had spent the next few months flying choppers, filled with men and equipment, to waiting Navy ships.  It had been a chaotic time with few quiet moments to think about the future.

An intensive eighteen weeks of military police training at Fort McClellan followed.  At least it had been cool in Alabama that winter.  _But Hell would be a mild description of the experience_ , he decided.  _No, I take that back.  I learned a lot_.  But his drill instructor, Sergeant Capcocken, must have been related to the fallen angle himself.

 _It's my own fault_ , he admitted to himself.  When he had accepted the field commission that moved him from warren officer to full lieutenant, he had been excited and honored.  But that decision had left him committed to the Army.  Now, standing at the empty airfield, he was having second thoughts.

 _I'm not an officer, not really_ , he thought.  He joined the Army right out of high school, unprepared and idealistic.  He'd volunteered for chopper school to fulfill a life-long dream of flying.  A dream he hadn't shared with a single living soul.  And when he was forced by circumstances to act and survive, he'd done so, and in the process he saved several other men's lives.  He had a knack for survival, or so it seemed at the time.  But the Army had seen fit to reward him with the field commission, one of a very few.

At the time he thought that he deserved it.  Now, though, the pilot wasn't so sure.  _Maybe it was just fear_ , Nick thought.  _I was too afraid of dying not to survive. The war put us all on the edge.  Any minute could be the last.  That's quite a rush.  A reason to–_

 _The war's over_ , he interrupted himself sternly.  _The Army sure as hell doesn't need a bunch of adrenaline-addicted chopper pilots flying strafing patterns over civilian populations for kicks.  But, man, would I like a chance to shoot a narrow canyon with a few hidden twists!_

He looked down at his new uniform.  _I guess the Army always needs MPs, though.  Me, a cop?  Man, what was I thinking about?_   He shook his head.  _Christ.  Well, at least they're keeping my flying status active.  Who knows, maybe I'll get to chase bad guys down with a gunship_.  He smiled at the picture the thought generated.  _The Army's very own Sky King.  Nick Ryder, American…_   The thought trailed off.

 _American?  Hell, I don't know this country anymore_ , he thought.  _I leave in 1970 and come back three years later and it's another planet_.  He smiled grimly.  _Ah, come off it, Ryder.  You're just feeling sorry for yourself.  You miss the team.  You miss the action…_

 _But, I don't miss being shot at, or the bugs, or the latrines, or–_  He took a deep breath.  _I wonder what Allen's doing these days_.

Shouldering the over-stuffed duffel bag, Nick walked to the only building nearby to begin in-processing.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 _I am going to die_ , Cody Allen thought as he finally stopped running.  Leaning over, he braced his hands above his knees and sucked the thick air in as deeply as he could.  _Why the hell didn't I just get out of the Army like an intelligent human being?  Why didn't I go back to school and get a law degree, or something useful?  Why–_

"Move.  Move!" the colonel yelled.  "Pistol range, double time, now!"

 _I must be having flashbacks!  This is just like MP school!  Who is this guy?  I fought a war, for Pete's sake!  I went through eighteen weeks of tortures even the VC couldn't have topped and now this idiot's here making me run laps, and pistol drills, and marching us all over the post…  What did I do to deserve this?_ the blond demanded, looking skyward before he followed the rest of the men.

"Pick up those feet, you pukes!"

 _He sounds just like Sergeant Capcocken!  That's what I ought to do, puke all over your shoes_.  The thought comforted the blond's aching muscles.  _Damn, it's hot.  Louisiana, it's just like Nam.  Why couldn't they send me to Alaska?  I could've been out there in the cold, watching polar bears to make sure they weren't Russian spies in disguise_.

 _I wonder where Ryder is…_ he mused, then grinned.  _Probably in Alaska… complaining about the cold_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After two days of waiting, signing forms in triplicate, and waiting some more, Lieutenant Nick Ryder was officially a member of the Fort Polk family.  He was also ready to run away from home.

Leesville was hot and humid; the locals spoke with accents stranger than the people in East L.A.; and half the folks he met in town could barely conceal their disgust over his career choice, while the others wanted to hear details about the war – the gorier the better.

 _This isn't what I expected_ , Nick thought as he watched a young man in brightly embroidered bell-bottom jeans, love beads and long hair spray-paint the side of the Army recruitment building with various slogans, including: "Baby Killer," "Raper," "Murder," and Ryder's personal favorite, "Establishment Dupe."

Nick watched the man slink away.  _Why didn't I stop him?_ he questioned himself.

 _Too much trouble_ , was the immediate reply.  _These kids can't understand.  He looks my age, but we might as well be aliens from two different worlds.  I need a beer_.

 _No, can't do that.  I report for duty today and all I need is to show up half-plastered_.  Ryder adjusted his grip on the bag full of items he had picked up at a local clothing store.

It would be nice to wear jeans again.  Why the PX didn't carry basic items like that, Ryder couldn't figure, but the trip also gave him an excuse to eat in town.  He checked his watch.  Two hours – just enough time to grab a hamburger and get back to the post for his first day as a MP.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"We have a new guy coming in this afternoon," Sergeant Peters said as Cody entered the MP command post.

"Great."

"Yeah, another lieutenant.  This one's a flyer."

Cody grunted and headed for the coffeepot.  Colonel Hardson had arrived two weeks before, and immediately set about turning the military police unit on the post into his own prisoner of war camp.  Half the men were laid up with injuries from the intensive workouts and drills, and the other half were moving at half speed to accommodate sore, stiff, sprained, or pulled muscles.  Tempers were short, and the colonel had scheduled a primary inspection for the day after tomorrow.  And now, to top off his day, they were getting in new man.  A fly-boy.

Someone was definitely out to get him.

"Look, Bob, could you meet the guy, show him around, then send him back to the BOQ or wherever?  I've got to get this place in order before that inspection.  Captain Rossi is still laid up with that sprained ankle and Hardson is, well, you know what he is."

"Yes, sir.  Be glad to, sir," the sergeant said.  Allen was a good man, and a good officer.  He took his duty as shift supervisor seriously and he'd make a pretty good cop with a little experience.  No, the sergeant wouldn't mind helping Allen out on this one at all.  Besides, it would get him out of the office, too.  If they didn't pass inspection, who knew what Hardson would come up with.

"Thanks.  Just keep him puttering and out of the way until this inspection is over.  If we fail he can suffer with the rest of us, but I don't want us suffering because a newby goofs up the day before."

"Yes, sir.  Don't you worry."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick was a little disappointed with his first day as a military police officer.  Sergeant Peters was a nice enough guy, but all he did was give Nick a tour of the base – which Ryder had already been treated to – and let him look over the chopper he would be flying.

The other MPs he met seemed tense, on edge, but the pilot didn't know why, exactly.  Something to do with an inspection.  Well, if he could pass on that kind of irritation, so much the better.  He didn't mind lying low for a few days if it meant missing the spit and polish games.

Nick returned the sergeant's salute when he dropped him off at the barracks. A section of the BOQ rooms had recently been destroyed in a particularly nasty storm, so Ryder was stuck bunking with the enlisted men until arrangements could be made to move him into a room with another bachelor officer.

 _Soon!_ Ryder pleaded when the radio next door began blaring out an old country-western tune.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Oh, this is just great!" Allen stormed as he re-read the letter waiting on his desk.

"What's up, L-T?" Peters asked.

The sergeant was in a good mood.  In fact, everyone but Allen was in a good mood.  Not only had they survived the inspection, passing with good marks, but Hardson was off the post, torturing the boys in Mississippi for a week.

"They're doubling us up at the BOQ.  Looks like I'm getting a roommate."

"Tough break.  I keep telling you, find a pretty young thing and get married.  The married housing for officers is pretty nice, and the side benefits can keep you warm on those long cold nights."

Cody grinned at the man's licentious expression.  "Louisiana doesn't have cold nights."

"You tell me about it when your roomie keeps you up all night snorin', or flicks his cigarette ashes on the floor or–"

"You're a real bundle of joy sometimes, Peters, you know that?"

The man grinned.  "Why, thank you, sir."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ryder unlocked the door and walked into his new quarters.  _Well, maybe this won't be so bad after all_ , he thought as he admired the place.  The room was neat, but not obsessive, and there was a familiar feel to it that the pilot liked.  He smiled.

Walking over to the unmade bunk and wall locker that had been added along one side of the room, Nick unpacked, then made up his bed.  _I wonder who this guy is_ , he thought as he sat down on the edge of the narrow bunk.  A key, slipping into the door lock, stilled further speculation.

"Nick?"

The dark-haired pilot looked up, an expression of disbelief on his face.  "Cody?"

"Yeah!"  The blond crossed the small space of the room and clasped Ryder hand in a warm embrace.  "How the hell are you?"

"Fine, man, fine."

"What're you doing here?"

"My new assignment," Ryder said, pointing at his arm-band.

"MP?" Cody asked, his eyes suddenly widening.  " _You're_ the new chopper jockey?"

Nick nodded.

"Oh, Jesus, Nick, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I've had Peters running you around the last couple of days to keep you out of the way.  See, we had a big inspection yesterday and I didn't want to take any chances that a new guy might blow it for us."

" _You're_ the reason I've been driven all over this post, hustled off to the mechanics' shed, and otherwise ignored?"

The blond smiled and wagged his eyebrows.  "Yep."

"Well," Nick said as seriously as he could, "I might forgive you… _if_ you buy me a beer."

"Deal," Allen replied.

The single word triggered a flood of memories for the pilot.  When he'd first met Allen, they seemed to click.  And after Allen had said that he wanted them to be friends, Ryder entered that friendship with a single word – "Deal."  And, despite their four-year age difference, the two lieutenants had quickly grown inseparable.  But when they'd been reassigned, Nick had assumed he'd never see the man again.  But here he was…

"Damn, it's good to see you!  Life might actually get a little interesting around here for a change," Cody said, wrapping an arm around Nick's shoulders and giving him a shake.

"Come on," Nick said, "let's go get that beer."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"So, Colonel Johnson's at the Pentagon, huh?" Allen asked after Nick brought him up to date on their old unit.

"Yeah.  He'll probably make General before we see first lieutenant."

" _If_ I see it," Cody corrected.

Nick's eyes widened slightly, but he kept his voice neutral as he asked, "You thinking about getting out?"

"I don't know.  I mean, being back here, it's just not the same…  There's no point."

Nick nodded, the sentiments similar to ones he felt.  "What'll you do?"

"That's just it.  I don't know.  I don't think I could handle going back to college…" Cody said, then trailed off.

Nick knew there was more to the comment than what was on the surface, but it wasn't the time to press Cody on it.  Maybe later, after they'd had a few beers.

"Remember what I used to tell you, about going back to California and getting a boat?  That's what I want to do."

"And do what?" Nick asked.

"I don't know, run tourists around maybe.  Fishing trips, charters, that sort of thing."

Nick nodded.  "I just wanted to fly, but now the edge is gone, you know?"

The blond's head bobbed.

"Guess I'll be a cop for now," Nick said.  "Hey, tell me more about this Hardson guy."

"Colonel Hardson.  I think he's a Nazi who's here hiding out," Cody grumbled.

Nick chuckled into his beer.

"He's the regional supervisor for all the MP units in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Texas.  It's a new program.  He's supposed to come in and set up training programs to keep us at–"  The blond slipped into an uncomplimentary imitation of the colonel's voice.  "–peak condition, both mentally, physically and mo-ti-va-tionally."

"I can't wait to meet the man," Nick quipped.

"Oh, you'll meet 'im.  He's due back in a week and he has an exercise set up for us."

"Exercise?" Nick asked.

"Yeah.  I don't know all the details, no one but the colonel does, but we'll be spending four days in the swamp."

"Swamp?  Oh, man, I thought all that was over!"

Cody grinned and shook his head.  "Hope you still have your mosquito repellant, Ryder."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Well, gentlemen, here we are," Colonel Hardson said, swinging his arm out to indicate the soggy clearing that would serve as their campsite.

"I guess we had reservations," Nick said under his breath, drawing a smile from Cody and Peters.

"I expect to see a camp sitting here in twenty minutes."  The colonel turned and headed off into the tangle of undergrowth.

"Come on," Cody said to the other fourteen men.  "You heard the man."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When Hardson returned, exactly nineteen minutes later, Nick had just put the finishing touches on the last tent, the one he and Cody would share.

"Not bad, gentleman.  Now, if Sergeants Peters and Albert would get started handing out the rations, I'll explain exactly what we'll be doing out here the next few days."

The two sergeants moved off while the rest of the men gathered around the colonel.  "We're here," Hardson began, "to simulate the actual conditions you would have to face while apprehending an escaped prisoner who fled into these swamps."

"Huh, sir?"

"Yes, Corporal Spensor?"

"There's other folks out here, too, sir.  Folks who ain't gonna like us trampin' through their land."

"Son, this land belongs to the United States government.  If there are people out here, they're trespassing and we'll remove them.  Now, three of you men will be playing the role of escaped prisoners.  The rest of you will track them down and apprehend them.  Prisoners will be allowed the following items – a single set of clothes that you'll be wearing, one book of matches, one spoon, and a weapon – filled with blanks – that you took from a MP during your escape.

"You all saw the route we took to arrive here.  Ten miles to the west is Leesville.  Twenty miles to the southwest is Newllano.  Tomorrow I will drive the escapees, and the team that will follow them, to a position roughly ten miles east of a base camp that I'll show the prisoners later.  Prisoners will be given an one-hour head-start.  As soon as a capture is made, you will report back to this location.  If a prisoner is able to reach the secondary camp, you will immediately call this camp.  I will then notify the team leader of the pursuing squad that you have made good your escape.  Is that all clear, gentlemen?"

"How long do we have, sir?" Nick asked.

"Forty-eight hours.  The statistics tell us that if a prisoner isn't caught within the first two days, there's an eighty percent chance that he won't be apprehended in the vicinity.  Day three we'll go over what worked and what didn't, and day four we will return to Fort Polk."

"What will the pursuing teams have at their disposal, sir?" Cody asked.

"Your wits, Lieutenant.  The prisoners will carry no food or water.  The pursuers will carry the rations and a single canteen of water, what you'd have in your jeeps if this were a real situation.  All weapons will be loaded with blanks only.  Also, any traps and the like that are set up should be designed to let the man know he was foolish, but not to injure him.

"If you're the victim of such a device, or become injured, report back to me here.  Now, if there aren't any other questions…"  The colonel held out a bag, rattling the contents.  "There are twelve black checkers in here and three red ones.  We'll let fate decide who the escapees will be."

The men moved in, each fishing a checker from the bag.  The first red was Sergeant Hernandez, a wiry Hispanic from Detroit.  The second was Corporal Wilson, a tall Texan who looked like he'd stepped right off the farm.  The third was Lieutenant Nick Ryder.

"That's it, gentlemen.  I suggest you eat and get some sleep.  You three will come with me."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Here," Cody said in the darkness when Nick finally returned.  "I saved you a can of peaches."

"Thanks," the dark-haired man said, "but I'd really hate to spoil the colonel's game.  After all, us escaped prisoners wouldn't have time to stop and grab a bit to eat."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick grinned evilly at Cody as the colonel placed the blond in charge of the other three men who would help him try and capture the pilot. 

 _Great, just what I needed_ , Allen thought.  _If I don't catch him, I'll never hear the end of it, but if I do…  Why me?_

Nick gave his roommate a jolly wave and trotted off into the foliage.

"One hour, gentlemen, and then, go get him."

"Yes, sir," Cody said, snapping a salute in place.

The colonel nodded in reply as he drove away.

Cody looked his men over.  Peters was reliable and familiar, Corporal Spensor was smarter than he looked, but he was green, and Private Rich was looking around like he was thinking about running off himself.  _Thanks, Colonel.  Nick's never going to let me forget this_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Twelve hours into the exercise Nick was hot, tired, but smugly satisfied at having removed Private Rich from the remainder of the exercise.  _Poor kid_ , the pilot thought.  _He never knew what hit him.  Cody really should've seen that one coming_.

Jogging through the bayou, Nick waited until he found a good hiding place, stopped, and waited.  Sure enough, Peters was on point, then Smith, Cody, and Rich hanging back at the rear.  It was easy enough to grab the boy.  Ryder had the private remove his belt, shoe laces, and canteen before fading back into the thick undergrowth.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Did Lieutenant Ryder serve in Nam?" Smith asked as he watched the young black man start back for the base camp.  It would be a long, lonely walk.

"Yeah," Cody said.  "We're going to have to go a little slower.  He'll start laying traps, and you'll be his next target."

"Me?" Smith squeaked.

"Yeah, the least experienced."

"Great."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 _Damn_ , Nick thought as he watched the three men pass by.  Smith was in the middle.  _Well, Cody's no fool_ , he admitted.  _Okay, I guess Peters will do.  A little payback for the three days of running me around_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Bob!" Cody yelled, but it was too late, the sergeant was falling, the baseball sized rock catching him at the back of his neck.

"Ouch!  Damn it!"

"You okay?" Allen asked, helping the man to his feet.

"Yeah."  He was disgusted with his own stupidity.  "I should've seen that!  Goddamn!  If this were the Nam, I'd've been dead!  Stupid, stupid, stupid!  Shit.  I guess it's back to camp for me."

"Good luck," Smith said sympathetically.

"Thanks, but I have a feeling you're the ones who're going to need it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Twenty-eight hours gone and two of the four were out of commission.  Ryder smiled to himself.  Not bad work.

"Thank you, Sergeant Anderson," the pilot whispered.  Twenty hours left and Nick estimated he had six miles to go.

 _I think I have you, Cody_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Cody considered the trail ahead.  It looked clear, but it also looked well used. Maybe Spensor was right about other people being out here.  He'd heard the same rumors as everyone else new to the south.  Small, highly territorial clans lived in the bayous and hill-country – and they shot trespassers.  Most of the stories were myth, but some of them were probably true.

 _And we're running around in the middle of it_ , he thought to himself.  _Brilliant. I just hope the folk who use this trail aren't the shoot-first types_.

"I don't like it," the corporal whispered.

"Me either."

"Ryder didn't do that.  It's locals."

"Maybe."

"Look, Lieutenant, I don't know where you're from, but I grew up in the Kentucky hill country, and we have the same kinds of folks there – people who never left the last century.  They don't take well to strangers."

"Look, we don't have much of a choice here.  We'll just assume that this is enemy held territory and proceed from there."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick poked at the trap and frowned.  Spensor was right.  There were people living on the federal land.

Rising, he set his bearings and headed off.  The sharp sound of a rifle fractured the thick humid air.  He fell.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"What the hell was that?" Spensor asked.

"Rifle."

"But none of us were–" he was stopped in mid-sentence as a second shot rang out, a shell rending through the young man's neck.

"Spensor!" Cody yelled.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick pressed his hand against the hip wound and looked up at the sound of Cody's voice nearby.

"Cody!"

"Nick?"

"Over here!  Be careful, there are traps in the bushes!"

A rustle in the undergrowth heralded the blond's arrival.  Scrambling over to the pilot, Cody's face paled when he saw that Nick had been shot.  "Bad?"

"I don't know," Nick said.  "I don't think so.  Feels like it's only a .22.  Think it hit the bone.  My leg feels like it's on fire."

"Did you see who it was?"

"No."

Cody quickly removed his t-shirt, using the soft cotton material to fashion a compress over the entrance wound.

Nick handed him Rich's belt to tie it down with.  "I guess this means you caught me, huh?"

"Something like that," Cody said with a thin smile.  "We have to get the hell out of here.  They might decide to make sure they finish the job."

"You won't get any argument from me."

"Can you walk?"

"I can try.  Help me up."  With the first pressure on his left leg, Nick's knee buckled and he doubled inward with a choked back groan.  He shook his head.  "No way.  I can't put any weight on it."

"Okay," Cody said, considering the options he had and not liking any of them. "I'll help you, we'll go slow."

"It's not gonna work.  If the shooter comes back, we'll be perfect targets."

"Well, I can't very well leave you lying here."

"No, not here.  Find me someplace to hide, then you leave me."

"Nick, no, there has to–"

"Damn it, you can't carry me out.  Now, come on."

"Yeah," Cody said, maneuvering to support Nick on the left side.  "I just don't like it."

"I never liked leaving guys behind either," Ryder replied.  "But sometimes there just isn't a choice."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"There," Nick said, pointing to several felled tree trunks.  The undergrowth had nearly filled in the space below the tangle, but there was enough room for a man to fit.

Cody lowered him to the ground and Nick gritted his teeth and wriggled under the molding wood.  Taking enough time to erase their tracks as best he could Cody, knelt down and whispered, "Hang in there, buddy."

"I'll be okay, just wish Hardson let us have real bullets."

"I'll be back."

"I know."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick lay silently, wishing he'd remembered to pick up Rich's water canteen.  Cody had been gone for six hours, plenty of time to reach the base camp and get help.  If he was lucky, they would be back for him before dark.

Blinking back the sweat that ran off his forehead, Nick shifted to restore the circulation in his good leg.  At least the bleeding had stopped, and except for the burning in his leg, the wound didn't seem too bad.  _But I'm probably going to get a hell of an infection laying here in the dirt_ , the pilot thought.

The soft scuffing of boots sounded like goose-stepping in the still afternoon.  _Two men?_

Nick strained to locate the direction.

 _They're coming from the west_.

He held his breath and waited.

Two young boys walked cautiously down the trail, exchanging whispers.  Nick watched intently.  They both carried .22 rifles.

"We gonna be in bad trouble," one of the boys said.

"We didn't mean to kill no man.  What they doin' out here anyways?"

"Don't know.  He's a soldier.  You think he was a'fightin'?"

"He was supposed to be a critter."

"Who'd ya think he was a'fightin'?"

The pair continued walking, their voices fading away.

 _Christ_ , Nick thought.  _They can't be more than eleven and thirteen.  Spensor was just in the wrong place at the wrong time_.

A chill rolled through the injured man.  _Come on, Cody, where are you?_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Allen moved quickly through the woods, watching for possible snipers.  A deep ache made him want to stop and return to the injured man, but this was the best move.

The sudden realization that he was probably feeling the same thing Nick experienced during the war when he pulled out of tight situations, leaving men behind on the ground, rushed through him.  He wondered if the pilot had those feelings when he'd pulled out, leaving Cody behind that day…

The feelings of panic and despair were still vivid.  Cody and Sergeant Langdon Parker, a good friend, had to be left behind after a mission to recover some top secret information had gone awry.  Nick and their commander, Colonel "Pitbull" Johnson had convinced the mission commander, General Haddison, to allow them to return and locate the two missing men.

Parker was already dead, and Cody thought he was surely doomed when the rescue chopper started away, but somehow Nick had spotted him.  Ryder risked his own life and those of the others in the chopper to drop back in and pull the blond out.  It was a debt the two men had repaid several times in the course of their two years with Colonel Johnson.

Allen hadn't ever really allowed himself to get too close to anyone.  And ever since Janet, he was even more inclined to keep his distance, but there was something about the pilot that felt familiar, safe, and he'd launched himself into the friendship with vigor.  Thankfully the younger man had reciprocated in kind.

When they had been reassigned, Allen told himself that the feelings he'd built up for the lieutenant were a product of the situation.  But it had been a lonely six months before Ryder's arrival at Fort Polk, and when he'd found the pilot seated on the second bunk, Cody knew their friendship was more than a product of war.

_And now?_

Allen fought back the fear.  The wound wasn't that bad, and the hiding place was good.  Nick would be fine.

He had to be fine.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ryder shook his head in an effort to stay awake.  He could feel the fever building and it was getting harder to breathe.  _Probably shock_ , he thought.

Checking his watch again, Nick frowned.  The possibility that Allen had run into the same shooter stirred him slightly, but before he could even consider crawling out of his hiding place the fuzzy gray of unconsciousness dragged him into oblivion.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"There," Cody said, pointing to the fallen trees.

Hardson and the others who were already in camp moved forward.  They carried their weapons at the ready, loaded with live ammunition.

Allen led the way.  Ryder's pale, pain-creased face halted him short.  "Nick?" he called.

There was no response.

Dropping down, the blond dragged the pilot out of the brush, then checked his pulse.  It was fast, but felt strong.

"Peters, Rich, get that make-shift stretcher over here," Hardson said, kneeling down beside Cody.  "Allen, let's go, son."

"Yes, sir," the blond replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Hey, Nick?  Can you hear me?"

Ryder concentrated on lifting his impossibly heavy eyelids.  "Cody?"

"Yeah, it's me.  You're in the hospital.  The surgery went great.  The doc says you'll be up and around in no time."

"Oh, good."

"Look, I have to go now, they only gave me a minute, but you hang in there, okay?"

"Sure.  Won't be running for a while."

Cody smiled.  "Get some rest."

"Hey, Cody?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you find the kids?"

"What kids?"

"When I was waiting… two boys… they… it was an accident… out hunting.  Shot Spensor… thought he was… animal."

"I'll take care of it.  You just rest."

Nick nodded sluggishly and let his eyes fall closed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"The boys and their families are going to be moved, but at least there won't be any charges brought against them," Cody explained as Nick hobbled along, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Glad to hear it.  They didn't know what they were shooting at."

"I know.  Oh, I also wanted to tell you, since you're gimped up for a while, Captain Rossi decided to take some leave time.  You're the new administrator for a while."

"What?"

"Yep.  That's what officers do, Nick.  Don't worry, we'll put you behind a desk and you can collar some reports."

"Ah, man, I don't even know how to use a typewriter!"

"Well, think of this as a perfect opportunity to expand your horizons."

The blue eyes narrowed.  "You're enjoying this, aren't you."

Cody grinned.  "Yeah, a little."

"A true friend."

Cody's smile widened.  "And just think, you'll be sharing an office with good ol' Colonel Hardson.  I'm sure the two of you can find lots of things to talk about."

Nick glared at his companion.  "I'll get you for this, Allen.  I swear it, one way or another."

"You'll have to catch me first," Cody said, trotting off toward the nearby building.

"Hey, wait a minute.  Come back here!" Nick yelled after the man, who paused at the door, giving him a salute before slipping inside.

"You will pay for this, Allen," Nick said, around an emerging smile.  "Believe me."

The End


End file.
